Wizz
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003
They look more like dead things now than humans. Long drawn white faces, dripping cold sweat, attatched to thin bony structures in the windy edge of violet morning. I step down Mercer toward John, my backward blue craftzman hat, red fishnet vest, skyblu phats - visually screaming raver - back to the ramp, and my vehicle. I'm feeling a bit fried.
A bunch of them are throwing a bright pink superball against the building across from The Oz waiting to be told that money is a valuable thing at the door. I've already been there. It wasn't worth the wait. After-parties used to excite me, so I don't blame them, I pray for them.
Image :
Attache' case demon, razorback blond, vibes vest, eyes that tear through the rims of graphite ray-bans, people are meant to be like him, and people are meant to die.
Mother is at home, shuffling baby and other family units to church. The mortgage is up. Father is working late-night shift at the bridge commission, drinking free coffee, reading porno in the booth, waiting for the next of five cars he will see tonight. His shift is about to end. Seven A.M.
She attatches wasted blackened eyesockets to me, and I feel the chill of the wind. Her hair wisps, thin figure on concrete, white denim jacket over nylon long-johns, white jeans, white cheeks. Step toward John. She moves. Step left, on John, toward Queen. "Hey!"
Turn right, look. Hands turned down, wrists out, extended, an unnoticed tear on the cheek, "Were you at the party?"
"Yes." Step closer.
"Do you know how to get to Underground Parking?", shivering.
"Which one?" skeptecism, there are billions of ramps in the city. I know the streets, Christ... She's fucked!
"What?" fear shaking the weak frame.
"Which Underground Parking Do You Mean?", trying not to smile, the spine tingler of purple window sky making the ground sizzle. Smiling makes them freak sometimes, you look like, to them, I could tell she was one, even more evil than they will ever look to you. I have been there.
"The green one," she said, "No....Yes," to a lost expression. Still trying not to smile. "The one with the green sign." She stands, stares at me, expecting something. The lamp-posts are so much different here than back home. They have long extended arms, to bring the light into the street, away from the center of the street. The lights just went out. Still at the corner of John and Mercer, that's right.
"Forget it. You're too fucked to help me." She was freaking.
Image :
Grey overalls on a heavy guy. Two-thousand seething ravers freaking in the light of hydraulic girders. Grey overalls unzipped. Returning from the bathroom with a jug of water. Grey overalls off. He dances naked, at the edge. No-one notices. If they did, they'd put him on stage. Maybe. It's New Year's eve, time to celebrate.
Forty billion electrons in my brain murdering themselves. I feel happy. I like feeling happy. And she is walking South on John, stomping away, afraid.
"Wait, I'll help you..." I must have been high...
"Forget it...Don't..." like I was going to rape her or something. "I can't handle this..." turns reverse to forward.
I run up to her, she's standing still, "You really should start staying away from the streets now, especially the yellow lines. People don't realize we are who we are, they'll just drive through us." She starts walking. South again. A parking ramp hides the position of the tower. In front of us, neon window sign, Italo-American. Funny because I am in Canada. Trying not to laugh. "I'll stick around and help you find it, it's rough coming down sometimes."
"I can't come down," afraid... "I don't want to anyway. I need to find Underground Parking." Freaking, upper lip twitching, anger and raw fear. Left on Front. There are people ahead of us. A street vendor from another planet, setting up shop for...wait...
"Where is it in relation to the tower?" I ask, clever, we might find it by tracking it.
"What...Oh...The tower...where the rave was?" Lost.
"Yeah, that Tower." I smile, unable to control it. Good thing she's walking ahead of me.
"Hey, maybe you should slow down...so we can..."
"I can't." harsh. Tooth grinding.
"...someone where to find this place. Is your car there?"
"No. My friend's car." Almost to the vendor, SkyDome steps are to the right. The tower looms above us, the laser still crawling up and down it's three way spine. Tingles at the back of my head, in the back of my head, inside the back of my head.
Image :
Tattered Elmo doll sagging from low slung knapsack. Backward FUCT cap, twists to me, eyebrows thick, wide iris' clicking on me. "You wanted hits?"
"Two." Blue ten trades for two bits of blotter, perforated.
"Tell me how they are." Clicks on me, twists. Gone. Elmo bounces.
"So where did you come from?" Smiling? ...Yes.
"Port Hope" back still to me. Up the steps, Up the steps, platform, guard-rail, Up the steps, platform.
"Can you call someone?" genuine attempt at turning no-hope into hope, but then again...
"I have no money...I know, I know..."
"Calling card?" Up steps, massive platform, Gate 23.
"It's in the car, all in the car."
"Hmmm..How far is Port Hope?" lead in to stupidity, but habit brings it to me.
"4 Hours."
"Which Way"
"Away From Hamilton"
East, great, what a trip that could be, forget it, find the ramp.
"Don't worry, I won't desert you, I've done this before." And spent three quarters of everything on it, but habit brings it. "Maybe it's on the other side of this dome, it's a long way but..."
"No, I know where it is. You're no help." Her feet go left, mine, toward gate 11, suddenly she's 40 feet away. Down the steps, and I turn and try to follow, toward the tower again, but now we're high, and to the right, and haven't gotten there yet, to the lot.
"You have no I.D., or money, or Calling Card?"
"No. I left them in the car."
"Why?" evil glare from tight pupils.
"They left me. They were supposed to come out of the bathroom, I went in, and they were gone." Tower doors, no one's here. The vest shows in the glass of the doors. A sign in the doorway :
"Persons Participating In Actions Not Ordained By The
Establishment Hosting This Event Will Not Be Tolerated.
Violators Will Be Removed And Charged. Rave On!!!"
Yeah. Albert got nailed to the cross last night with 150 E's. Albert wasn't with the Force.
Image :
The Rise. Three-Eighteen Richmond St. West. Salvador Dali' leers off black and white concrete bricks, clockwork flower tipped mustache floating in space. The line is down the steps of Action Print, out the door, onto the pavement. They can't wait to get in, to escape. Long haired Mike at the door, XL Jacket, grey and white emblem meaning something to some, nothing to a no-one. He takes the eight dollars from each of them. Down the hall to the right, get some water. Drink some juice, it'll make your trip kick into high gear. Jason lives here.
The sign pouts Q-Zar and Tour Of The Universe in hot-pink and purple on backlit black. It's triangular and we step down past it to a hot-dog vendor. Speaking english is a paid chore that he will suffer with, once he gets his umbrella up and starts cooking rolled pork on the blackened grill, framed by stainless steel.
"Where can I find a parking lot with a green sign?" I ask, smiling.
"What?" she keeps walking, while he tries to translate into whatever language it is he speaks.
"Where can I find a parking lot with a green sign?" I ask again, smiling, a tear welling at the crack of my eye.
"No, Know." Thanks pal. You have a good day now.
"Bye."
I follow her past the Baja Beach Club on pavement. Suits are exiting from glass doors two businesses down. I didn't get their names, I'll never need their names, who the fuck do they think they are anyway? They are starting work. Don't stare at me man, or I'll smile at you.
"So what's up, where are you going? Are you sure it's out here, we're away from the tower now, you said it was near the tower."
"I think I remember now, it was off the street, it's right down... I remember this corner, but I don't see it." She turns to look at me, and smiles while turning, it's off of York, she sees the green sign over a hole in the building behind her. "Underground Parking, I told you it was green."
"Well, there it is then, do you think I could get a lift back to my car?" Cold fingernails bite my arm, then the vest, come on. Left across Front, past the cars, they are very close, but we are walking quickly. Into the hole, it feels like a funhouse on slanted concrete, we're digging in. "Shouldn't we take the stairs?" A car might hit us if we walk the ramp, but why worry, they didn't catch us on Front.
"It's right over here, see it?"
"No, what color is it?"
"Red"
As if I'd need her to tell me that once we'd found it. I really hope this is the right lot, or we're here for a long time.
Step between two rows of Beamers, Nissans, and Saturns. She still has the vest. The back wall, the red car, two figures in it, I hear breakbeat bouncing off the walls, echoing into the fringes of my vision, not loud though, we're coming down, all 2,000 of us. They see us, the passenger door opens.
"Where did you go?"
"I was looking for you, you left me in, outside, near the batroom, why didn't you wait for me?!" tears start again. Where's John? He went back to look for you. The driver's seat dude leans to show me his face. They bitch.
"Hey what's up? You were groovin' up there." Yeah, and you were puking up there. What a burnout, he's finished man. I kept smiling. "So what are you on man?"
"One really hard hit."
"Acid?"
"Yeah, how 'bout you? Purple window sky or some weird thing."
"4 Hits, 2 E's and a little crystal. Hey, you look soaked, where are you going?"
"Hardcore man." It takes a genius. Keep smiling!
"I was just helping her find the lot, I could use a lift back to my Shadow."
"Your car?"
"Yeah."
"Sure man, we just hafta wait for John, he went to look for her."
"Cool."
"Turn the tunes up man, I need to get warmed up, I'll sit out here, so I don't soak your car." The feeling of granular cement paste pushes through my phats and my legs bend at the knee pushing them up beyond the tops of beaten purple and green Converse All-Stars. She has a seat next to me, no one talks, we just relax to the beat. The concrete is getting colder. I think I'm about to crash, I can feel it, an hour is passing. The tape clicks off.
Check the watch. 9:30 A.M. The bronze gears twist for me if I keep them electrically fed. Feeding time is once every half year.
"I think I better get going."
"Don't you need a ride?"
"I'll be O.K. I'm used to walking, it's a long way, but it could take longer if I wait, and I'm paranoid about the towtrucks."
"You parked on the street?"
"Past Pizza Pizza off Queen by the Rise."
"I'm sorry. Hang on. I'll walk you out."
"O.k. See ya later man, make sure you chill a bit before you drive O.k.?"
"Don't worry, I'm already down. Have a good trip back." I'm having a good trip here, yeah, he puked it all up, what happens next time when his heart flips?
Up the stairs, out the door, on Front, large pavement curve on the corner of the building.
"You know what happened tonight, John deals right?" her mouth curves down, hands behind her back, leaning over. "You know the scene, you're in it, but I know it better, I've been here since the first Nitrous. You know Nitrous. Be Careful. Don't come back here, and if you do, make sure you know your way home."
"I will."
"I don't have your name, I don't need it, if we meet again, buy a drink from me, if not, be careful, be nice to them until they get you home, and watch that dude's driving." She wants to follow me home. I know it, she stands there waiting for me to ask, but I can't help her. She has to just, not do this. I look her in the eye, smile and turn, toward John. Then I turn back, she steps down the stairs, looks up at me from the door to the dungeon, I turn on John.
Cross the street halfway up, the sleet piling down on polyester red and cotton blue and silver. The craftzman is going to rust, I just know it. Blond hair. Could have had it, maybe. Which is nicer? To smile and help and then use, or to just use, and cast away? Why waste the time and help? The Shadow is waiting for me. Hopefully.
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003
They look more like dead things now than humans. Long drawn white faces, dripping cold sweat, attatched to thin bony structures in the windy edge of violet morning. I step down Mercer toward John, my backward blue craftzman hat, red fishnet vest, skyblu phats - visually screaming raver - back to the ramp, and my vehicle. I'm feeling a bit fried.
A bunch of them are throwing a bright pink superball against the building across from The Oz waiting to be told that money is a valuable thing at the door. I've already been there. It wasn't worth the wait. After-parties used to excite me, so I don't blame them, I pray for them.
Image :
Attache' case demon, razorback blond, vibes vest, eyes that tear through the rims of graphite ray-bans, people are meant to be like him, and people are meant to die.
Mother is at home, shuffling baby and other family units to church. The mortgage is up. Father is working late-night shift at the bridge commission, drinking free coffee, reading porno in the booth, waiting for the next of five cars he will see tonight. His shift is about to end. Seven A.M.
She attatches wasted blackened eyesockets to me, and I feel the chill of the wind. Her hair wisps, thin figure on concrete, white denim jacket over nylon long-johns, white jeans, white cheeks. Step toward John. She moves. Step left, on John, toward Queen. "Hey!"
Turn right, look. Hands turned down, wrists out, extended, an unnoticed tear on the cheek, "Were you at the party?"
"Yes." Step closer.
"Do you know how to get to Underground Parking?", shivering.
"Which one?" skeptecism, there are billions of ramps in the city. I know the streets, Christ... She's fucked!
"What?" fear shaking the weak frame.
"Which Underground Parking Do You Mean?", trying not to smile, the spine tingler of purple window sky making the ground sizzle. Smiling makes them freak sometimes, you look like, to them, I could tell she was one, even more evil than they will ever look to you. I have been there.
"The green one," she said, "No....Yes," to a lost expression. Still trying not to smile. "The one with the green sign." She stands, stares at me, expecting something. The lamp-posts are so much different here than back home. They have long extended arms, to bring the light into the street, away from the center of the street. The lights just went out. Still at the corner of John and Mercer, that's right.
"Forget it. You're too fucked to help me." She was freaking.
Image :
Grey overalls on a heavy guy. Two-thousand seething ravers freaking in the light of hydraulic girders. Grey overalls unzipped. Returning from the bathroom with a jug of water. Grey overalls off. He dances naked, at the edge. No-one notices. If they did, they'd put him on stage. Maybe. It's New Year's eve, time to celebrate.
Forty billion electrons in my brain murdering themselves. I feel happy. I like feeling happy. And she is walking South on John, stomping away, afraid.
"Wait, I'll help you..." I must have been high...
"Forget it...Don't..." like I was going to rape her or something. "I can't handle this..." turns reverse to forward.
I run up to her, she's standing still, "You really should start staying away from the streets now, especially the yellow lines. People don't realize we are who we are, they'll just drive through us." She starts walking. South again. A parking ramp hides the position of the tower. In front of us, neon window sign, Italo-American. Funny because I am in Canada. Trying not to laugh. "I'll stick around and help you find it, it's rough coming down sometimes."
"I can't come down," afraid... "I don't want to anyway. I need to find Underground Parking." Freaking, upper lip twitching, anger and raw fear. Left on Front. There are people ahead of us. A street vendor from another planet, setting up shop for...wait...
"Where is it in relation to the tower?" I ask, clever, we might find it by tracking it.
"What...Oh...The tower...where the rave was?" Lost.
"Yeah, that Tower." I smile, unable to control it. Good thing she's walking ahead of me.
"Hey, maybe you should slow down...so we can..."
"I can't." harsh. Tooth grinding.
"...someone where to find this place. Is your car there?"
"No. My friend's car." Almost to the vendor, SkyDome steps are to the right. The tower looms above us, the laser still crawling up and down it's three way spine. Tingles at the back of my head, in the back of my head, inside the back of my head.
Image :
Tattered Elmo doll sagging from low slung knapsack. Backward FUCT cap, twists to me, eyebrows thick, wide iris' clicking on me. "You wanted hits?"
"Two." Blue ten trades for two bits of blotter, perforated.
"Tell me how they are." Clicks on me, twists. Gone. Elmo bounces.
"So where did you come from?" Smiling? ...Yes.
"Port Hope" back still to me. Up the steps, Up the steps, platform, guard-rail, Up the steps, platform.
"Can you call someone?" genuine attempt at turning no-hope into hope, but then again...
"I have no money...I know, I know..."
"Calling card?" Up steps, massive platform, Gate 23.
"It's in the car, all in the car."
"Hmmm..How far is Port Hope?" lead in to stupidity, but habit brings it to me.
"4 Hours."
"Which Way"
"Away From Hamilton"
East, great, what a trip that could be, forget it, find the ramp.
"Don't worry, I won't desert you, I've done this before." And spent three quarters of everything on it, but habit brings it. "Maybe it's on the other side of this dome, it's a long way but..."
"No, I know where it is. You're no help." Her feet go left, mine, toward gate 11, suddenly she's 40 feet away. Down the steps, and I turn and try to follow, toward the tower again, but now we're high, and to the right, and haven't gotten there yet, to the lot.
"You have no I.D., or money, or Calling Card?"
"No. I left them in the car."
"Why?" evil glare from tight pupils.
"They left me. They were supposed to come out of the bathroom, I went in, and they were gone." Tower doors, no one's here. The vest shows in the glass of the doors. A sign in the doorway :
"Persons Participating In Actions Not Ordained By The
Establishment Hosting This Event Will Not Be Tolerated.
Violators Will Be Removed And Charged. Rave On!!!"
Yeah. Albert got nailed to the cross last night with 150 E's. Albert wasn't with the Force.
Image :
The Rise. Three-Eighteen Richmond St. West. Salvador Dali' leers off black and white concrete bricks, clockwork flower tipped mustache floating in space. The line is down the steps of Action Print, out the door, onto the pavement. They can't wait to get in, to escape. Long haired Mike at the door, XL Jacket, grey and white emblem meaning something to some, nothing to a no-one. He takes the eight dollars from each of them. Down the hall to the right, get some water. Drink some juice, it'll make your trip kick into high gear. Jason lives here.
The sign pouts Q-Zar and Tour Of The Universe in hot-pink and purple on backlit black. It's triangular and we step down past it to a hot-dog vendor. Speaking english is a paid chore that he will suffer with, once he gets his umbrella up and starts cooking rolled pork on the blackened grill, framed by stainless steel.
"Where can I find a parking lot with a green sign?" I ask, smiling.
"What?" she keeps walking, while he tries to translate into whatever language it is he speaks.
"Where can I find a parking lot with a green sign?" I ask again, smiling, a tear welling at the crack of my eye.
"No, Know." Thanks pal. You have a good day now.
"Bye."
I follow her past the Baja Beach Club on pavement. Suits are exiting from glass doors two businesses down. I didn't get their names, I'll never need their names, who the fuck do they think they are anyway? They are starting work. Don't stare at me man, or I'll smile at you.
"So what's up, where are you going? Are you sure it's out here, we're away from the tower now, you said it was near the tower."
"I think I remember now, it was off the street, it's right down... I remember this corner, but I don't see it." She turns to look at me, and smiles while turning, it's off of York, she sees the green sign over a hole in the building behind her. "Underground Parking, I told you it was green."
"Well, there it is then, do you think I could get a lift back to my car?" Cold fingernails bite my arm, then the vest, come on. Left across Front, past the cars, they are very close, but we are walking quickly. Into the hole, it feels like a funhouse on slanted concrete, we're digging in. "Shouldn't we take the stairs?" A car might hit us if we walk the ramp, but why worry, they didn't catch us on Front.
"It's right over here, see it?"
"No, what color is it?"
"Red"
As if I'd need her to tell me that once we'd found it. I really hope this is the right lot, or we're here for a long time.
Step between two rows of Beamers, Nissans, and Saturns. She still has the vest. The back wall, the red car, two figures in it, I hear breakbeat bouncing off the walls, echoing into the fringes of my vision, not loud though, we're coming down, all 2,000 of us. They see us, the passenger door opens.
"Where did you go?"
"I was looking for you, you left me in, outside, near the batroom, why didn't you wait for me?!" tears start again. Where's John? He went back to look for you. The driver's seat dude leans to show me his face. They bitch.
"Hey what's up? You were groovin' up there." Yeah, and you were puking up there. What a burnout, he's finished man. I kept smiling. "So what are you on man?"
"One really hard hit."
"Acid?"
"Yeah, how 'bout you? Purple window sky or some weird thing."
"4 Hits, 2 E's and a little crystal. Hey, you look soaked, where are you going?"
"Hardcore man." It takes a genius. Keep smiling!
"I was just helping her find the lot, I could use a lift back to my Shadow."
"Your car?"
"Yeah."
"Sure man, we just hafta wait for John, he went to look for her."
"Cool."
"Turn the tunes up man, I need to get warmed up, I'll sit out here, so I don't soak your car." The feeling of granular cement paste pushes through my phats and my legs bend at the knee pushing them up beyond the tops of beaten purple and green Converse All-Stars. She has a seat next to me, no one talks, we just relax to the beat. The concrete is getting colder. I think I'm about to crash, I can feel it, an hour is passing. The tape clicks off.
Check the watch. 9:30 A.M. The bronze gears twist for me if I keep them electrically fed. Feeding time is once every half year.
"I think I better get going."
"Don't you need a ride?"
"I'll be O.K. I'm used to walking, it's a long way, but it could take longer if I wait, and I'm paranoid about the towtrucks."
"You parked on the street?"
"Past Pizza Pizza off Queen by the Rise."
"I'm sorry. Hang on. I'll walk you out."
"O.k. See ya later man, make sure you chill a bit before you drive O.k.?"
"Don't worry, I'm already down. Have a good trip back." I'm having a good trip here, yeah, he puked it all up, what happens next time when his heart flips?
Up the stairs, out the door, on Front, large pavement curve on the corner of the building.
"You know what happened tonight, John deals right?" her mouth curves down, hands behind her back, leaning over. "You know the scene, you're in it, but I know it better, I've been here since the first Nitrous. You know Nitrous. Be Careful. Don't come back here, and if you do, make sure you know your way home."
"I will."
"I don't have your name, I don't need it, if we meet again, buy a drink from me, if not, be careful, be nice to them until they get you home, and watch that dude's driving." She wants to follow me home. I know it, she stands there waiting for me to ask, but I can't help her. She has to just, not do this. I look her in the eye, smile and turn, toward John. Then I turn back, she steps down the stairs, looks up at me from the door to the dungeon, I turn on John.
Cross the street halfway up, the sleet piling down on polyester red and cotton blue and silver. The craftzman is going to rust, I just know it. Blond hair. Could have had it, maybe. Which is nicer? To smile and help and then use, or to just use, and cast away? Why waste the time and help? The Shadow is waiting for me. Hopefully.
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